


i've burned this bridge a thousand times (but you won't let me go)

by antikytheras



Series: i made poor life choices and now i have to write genyatta everyday [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack, Dysfunctional Family, Getting Together, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, References to Depression, i'm genuinely stumped on how to tag this, look the more i tag this the more confusing it gets, that's it that's the story, the basic premise is that for some reason zen joins overwatch during the blackwatch era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 19:50:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13554387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antikytheras/pseuds/antikytheras
Summary: ‘Shimada, a word.’Genji stares blankly at his commander leaning against the doorframe and racks whatever’s left of his (wholly intact) brain. ‘Sky.’Reyes blinks. ‘Wha— No, no no nonono that’s not what I meant.’





	i've burned this bridge a thousand times (but you won't let me go)

He should’ve known his life was doomed to shit when he actually woke up after getting hacked to pieces by his own brother. He should’ve started running when the smiling-and-scary doctor explained, in intricate detail, what this stupid organisation with the biggest saviour complex he’d ever seen was willing to do to “save” his mangled, _useless_ body and what it expected in return. He should’ve pulled his own plug when he had to suffer months and months of physical therapy (but none of that mental shit, no— he wasn’t letting anyone in his head, not if they worked on the nutcases tossing bombs at dartboards and wearing cowboy hats indoors) only to be told that, oops, the reason he can’t use his entire right arm isn’t because his muscles aren’t working properly anymore, it’s because their supplier stuck the wrong circuit board in him.

So when he hears about the new recruit, an internationally recognised celebrity figure with a penchant for world peace, Genji decides that he’s had enough regrets when it comes to this awful strike team and their awful, awful Team Building Parties and he actually bothers to speak up when their commanders look round the jam-packed conference table for objections.

He stands up and slams his hands on the (surprisingly sturdy) table for good measure. ‘I object.’

Surprisingly, McCree raises his hand too, kicking back and propping his legs against the table top. ‘S’cuse me for being so blunt, but did I miss the memo that said a _monk_ could do any half-decent fighting?’

Their three commanders react in unison. It’s quite a show of how absurdly coordinated they are. The Strike Commander and his second-in-command stand in front of the room, in the spotlight where they’ve always belonged. Meanwhile, the person affectionately referred to as the “problem child babysitter” skulks in the back of the room, arms crossed and one boot flat against the wall. When the traitorous Blackwatch agents are done saying their piece, Morrison shoots Reyes a look. The corner of Amari’s mouth twitches, but if she has anything to say, she does it entirely with her amused eyes.

Having lost the silent squabble, their commander sighs and turns to them. ‘Will you let it go if I _tell_ you he’s legit?’

Genji scoffs.

McCree somehow kicks off a boot. The spur rattles when it bounces on the table.

‘Right,’ Reyes says, unimpressed. ‘I’ve got the first aid kit ready for whichever of you idiots offends him first.’

Regardless of their entirely-convincing argument, their objections are soundly outvoted by the rest of the table. Even Dr. Ziegler looks unfairly excited at the prospect of working with a fellow pacifistic healer. Torbjörn looks disgusted but diplomatically abstains from the vote, citing his “unfair biases”. They later find out that he’d done it to win over Dr. Ziegler’s assistance in building Amari a new biotic rifle when Dr. Ziegler’s barbed two hundred-page report against unethical work policies circulates throughout the entirety of their mail server.

Reyes corners Genji two days before the Shambali monk’s scheduled arrival. In hindsight, it should have been obvious how it was going to go down.

‘Shimada, a word.’

Genji stares blankly at his commander leaning against the doorframe and racks whatever’s left of his (wholly intact) brain. ‘Sky.’

Reyes blinks. ‘Wha— No, no no nonono that’s not what I meant. I need to speak with you.’

Slowly, Genji sheathes his _wakizashi_ and follows Reyes’s footsteps when he turns and beckons for Genji to come along. He starts to think of all the illegal things he’s done in the past week or so— Was it the fantastic work of art he’d left on Reinhardt’s sleeping face? He did look very fetching with a cartoon dick scribbled on his forehead. Or was it the tree he’d accidentally cut down during a training session, the thirteenth this month? Thirteen is an unlucky number, but Overwatch has more than enough resources to plant thirteen full-grown trees without ever having to break a sweat. Or— No, surely not! Not the sandwich he’d stolen from the communal fridge? There wasn’t even a name on it, which meant that the Finders Keepers Rule was in effect.

‘What is it? Another mission?’

Reyes turns back with a cheerful, almost proud smile. ‘Bingo. You want a solo mission? No deadweight cowboys? No commander breathing down your neck for every missile you charge into just to deflect? Well, it’s your lucky day.’

Oh no. Cheerful Reyes is bad enough, but Almost Proud Reyes is nigh-unstoppable.

Genji stalls with a polite, ‘Is it?’

‘Oh yeah.’ Reyes smirks, and that’s when Genji starts praying to every god he remembers. ‘Lucky. Real lucky. Ever wanted to meet a celebrity?’

Genji stops walking. Reyes doesn’t stop walking.

‘No.’

‘Yes.’

‘You can’t make me,’ he protests, but Reyes is already waving him off.

‘Everyone else’s schedule is filled. It’s either you or Torbjörn, and, well— We can’t fire Torbjörn for his views when he’s the only one building all our tech.’

Genji is suddenly grateful for his extensive education in risk management when he snaps, ‘Then diversify.’

Reyes laughs, hard. ‘Oh, you stupid little man. We _are_ the diversity. We’re the poster boys for anyone who accuses Overwatch of whatever they’ve been accusing the UN of all these years. You, me, Jesse— what’s missing in that picture?’

‘Two tanks and a healer.’

‘Very funny,’ Reyes says drily, then shoots a cheeky little peace sign in Genji’s general direction. ‘He’ll be in your care. Watch out for the mobs. Tricky things, mobs. The best cover for assassins.’

Genji stares at his back.

‘What do you mean, _mobs?_ ’

 

 

 

 

As it turns out, their new saintly patron comes bundled with a saint-like patience. He stops to chat with every person he can, and Genji’s learned enough from his childhood days to know that as his entourage, he has no choice but to stay put or tag along.

It’s been close to two hours since the monk landed and they’re still nowhere near the carpark, since Zenyatta feels the overpowering need to stop and chat with _every single one of his godforsaken fans_.

Genji’s first surprise of the day is when the monk turns to him and says, ‘My deepest apologies for this delay. I hope I have not interfered too greatly with the schedule?’

The second surprise of the day is the rich-dark _goodness_ of the omnic’s voice. His third surprise of the day is when his body automatically jumps between Zenyatta and some sort of projectile and ends up with a milkshake thrown in his face.

He files the first two surprises away for later and sets about addressing the third. Within seconds, he finds himself flocked by Zenyatta’s ardent fans holding out enough tissues for him to wank into for a solid year. He doesn’t bother smiling when he accepts a handful from a girl, who nods gravely and pats his shoulders while she balances on her tippy-toes.

He looks around for the monk, and sure enough Zenyatta’s sitting with the very assailant who’d meant to throw the milkshake at him. Genji watches, carefully, as the pure hate on the man’s face slowly fades to embarrassed disbelief, then glows its way to awestruck wonder.

In that moment, he cements his resolve to keep the crafty monk at arm’s length.

With all the grace he can muster (spoiler alert: not a lot) he strolls up to Zenyatta and politely reminds him, ‘The car?’

Zenyatta practically jumps up, except he’s doing that thing where he floats in lotus position so it looks more like he’s just bobbing in the air. ‘Shall we?’

‘Please,’ Genji says through gritted teeth.

Zenyatta tilts his head contemplatively, but says nothing.

 

 

 

 

 

To everyone’s surprise, McCree is the idiot who challenges Zenyatta to a duel.

‘I bet on you, boy,’ Amari grumbles to a very offended Genji. ‘Should’ve known you’d let me down. Like always.’

‘Then maybe don’t _bet on me if you know I’ll disappoint you_ ,’ he hisses.

Amari makes that thoughtful-sombre face for a split second, and Genji _knows_ that she knows.

So she says nothing, leaving him to fill in the blanks on his own.

McCree loses, though, and that’s the important thing.

 

 

 

 

 

Genji’s really starting to feel like the village bicycle when Reyes singles him out in the conference room.

‘Go fetch,’ is all the instruction he gets before his commander picks him up like a sack of rice and deposits him outside the meeting room.

Genji kicks the door for good luck before he goes.

Sure enough, Zenyatta is meditating again, the blue lights on his forehead glowing and dimming at roughly fifteen beats per minute. Genji’s been sent to fetch him almost every single day now, because apparently the monk sinks so deep into the Iris that it takes a trained assassin to shake him back to the world of the living.

‘Oh, Genji,’ Zenyatta murmurs dreamily, looking up at the cyborg as if through a wall of fog.

Genji conveniently forgets to be polite when he snaps, ‘What?’

That seems to fully rouse the omnic. He shakes the sleep out of his system, and starts to rise from his meditation cushion.

‘What?’ Genji repeats. ‘What do you want? What’s your fucking problem?’

Zenyatta pauses and Genji hates the look that enters his eyes (or his face lights, whatever the fuck you wanna call the LEDs glowing behind the holes in his faceplate) because it’s the one he uses whenever he’s dissecting a problem to pieces. He’s not a problem, he’s a _person_ , and the omnic damn well knows how to talk to people and make them _feel like they’re something so what the fuck is wrong with the way he’s—_

‘I’ve had enough of people _saying nothing_ ,’ Genji snarls. ‘If you’ve got shit to spill, then go! Do it! Don’t bottle it up until you’d rather kill me than say anything about what I’m doing wrong!’

Zenyatta tilts his head. ‘Have I given you the idea that I want to murder you?’

‘Stop trying to dissect me!’ It feels so bloody good to yell. He doesn’t wait for Zenyatta’s reply before he storms out of the room and back down the hall to the corridor leading to the conference room.

Alone in his room, Zenyatta floats, confused when he murmurs, ‘Dissect? I’m not dissecting _you_. I’m dissecting _me_.’

 

 

 

 

 

Genji doesn’t know what to do with the monk who’s suddenly decided to attach himself to Genji’s hip. Not literally, of course (thank god), but it’s still infinitely annoying to find himself with a constant conversational partner who not only takes all the abuse he (inadvertently) hurls at him like a fucking _champ_ , he even surprises Genji with stupid witty comebacks of his own.

‘I bet I could aim better than your shitty AI,’ he jests one day.

Zenyatta only looks amused. ‘Do you wish to end up like McCree? I heard that he didn’t quite like his face after I was done with it.’

Genji scoffs. ‘You’re not getting anywhere near my face.’

‘I certainly hope not,’ Zenyatta murmurs.

‘What’s that supposed to mean!?’

Zenyatta is the picture of innocence. ‘It’s a very good face, Genji. I’d hate to be the one to ruin it.’

Now it’s Genji’s turn to say nothing.

 

 

 

 

 

There’s a knock on Jesse’s door.

‘Come in,’ he calls out, tossing his mystery novel aside.

His eyebrow shoots way up when Genji steps through the threshold. Genji? Knocking? On his door? It’s less likely than you’d think. The last time Genji had wanted to talk to him, they’d conducted a full and heated discussion on whether Tekken or Street Fighter was the better game by yelling through the door because Genji had absolutely refused to go in.

Jesse McCree is a lot of things. He’s an asshole, a sharpshooter, a charming guy with loose morals and a looser belt, but he’s not humble enough to double-check if the gift horse sleeping outside his house was delivered to the right address when he sees one.

He squints at Genji’s eyebags. They’re worse than usual. ‘You alright, mate?’

‘No,’ Genji says tiredly, and throws himself on Jesse’s bed.

Now Jesse _really_ wants to call Angela and tell her that he’s about to kidnap the obviously depressed man and force him through a therapy session, Gabe’s anger be damned.

‘Er. I drool on that one.’

Genji grunts.

‘No, really, it’s gross, you shouldn’t put your face on—’

‘What’s wrong with my face?’ Genji demands, sitting up.

Oh boy. This is gonna be a wild ride, and contrary to popular belief, Jesse can’t actually ride a horse. ‘Other than the fact that only your mother could love a face like that? I dunno, don’t ask me.’

‘Then why does Zen absolutely refuse to headshot me? He decimated you and he’s not even taking me seriously when we spar!’

Zen? Zen??? Did Genji “Last Name Basis” Shimada just use a nickname on a _monk_?

In the pregnant silence, reality starts to sink in, and the anvil hits the seabed at the same time for the both of them.

Jesse laughs hysterically. ‘Oh my— Sweet baby Jesus you— You really—’

Genji looks horrified. ‘No. No.’

‘ _Yes_ ,’ Jesse crows, doubling over and choking on his spit majestically.

‘That’s a _monk_!’

‘Shut the fuck up, Mister Playboy, don’t act like you haven’t done anything worse than this. Besides, if I’m hearing ya correctly, your little Zenny probably wants to _bring you to the light of the Iris_ , if you catch my drift.’

Genji drags a hand down his face. Jesse stares. Are those _tears_?

The cyborg sounds like he’s short-circuiting when he mumbles, ‘He was… flirting… with me…’

Jesse knows that almost all the members of Overwatch are young at heart, but he’s pretty sure they’ve never been _this_ ridiculous before. He suddenly remembers the intriguing conversation he’d had with Zenyatta two weeks ago— something to do with bad cowboy jokes before it deteriorated into a battle to see who could come up with the worst pick-up line.

‘Oh for fuck’s— _He actually used that line?_ I was kidding! I didn’t think he would—’

‘ _Shut the fuck up_!’

 

 

 

 

 

Zenyatta, who had been getting a solid earful of the conversation from his open window, finds himself shaken out of his meditation by a niggling thought.

_A monk? Who said I was still a monk?_

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> in my imagining of a world where zen somehow appears in overwatch during the blackwatch era he also somehow loses his actual monk status (don't ask me how i don't have enough lore to bullshit an answer for you) and he's also somehow still twenty when he joins but other than that he's still the zen we all know and love
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/_antikytheras)


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